SONGS 

AND 

DREAMS 



P. M. RASKIN 
























































































COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




















Copyright 1920 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Mass. 


O « 
4 * 

« < « 


The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A 


© ■'!. A 5 7 017 8 


JUN -i 1320 


This book belongs 
To you , my wife; 
You bought my songs, 
And paid a life. 


Foreword 


A volume of poems requires no preface; and yet, 
if the reader can never be told how poems are written, 
why should he sometimes not be told under what 
conditions they are written? 

English is not my native language, not even the 
language of my early youth. When landing in Lon¬ 
don some twenty years ago, a boy of nineteen, I knew 
Hebrew, Yiddish, Russian, German and French, but 
not a word of English. In some of those languages 
I, at that time, already wrote and published poems, 
but it has always been my desire — nay, my ambi¬ 
tion— to make English my medium of expression. 
It was not, however, before 1910 that I attempted 
my first poem in English. In 1914 my first volume, 
“Songs of a Jew,” was published in London. For 
that volume Mr. Israel Zangwill, whom I did not 
know personally, wrote an introduction and found 
a publisher. 

I knew that when Mr. Zangwill wrote of those 
poems that some of them “should have been written by 
Browning in his particularly lucid moments,” he was 
probably over-kind to me, but I confess that it made 
me happy; it was the fulfillment of an ambition — to 
overcome the difficulty of language. 

In November, 1915, I came over to the States, and 
a few months later the Jewish Publication Society of 
America published my “Songs of a Wanderer”—a 


FOREWORD 


book which obtained admission to more than twenty- 
four thousand homes and libraries in the United 
States. 

Before leaving England a London editor wrote me 
that the Muses cannot digest American food, and 
that my Well of Inspiration would be dried up in 
the torrid climate of American Materialism. I am 
glad that that prophecy has not come true. “Songs 
and Dreams,” the favorite child of my soul, was 
bom in America. 

I am a child of the wandering race. With my 
native land — my stepfather,— and my native tongue 
— my stepmother — I found in English a sweet and 
beautiful sister whom I love, and to whom, in my 
inspired moments, I confide my Dreams and sing my 
Songs. 

New York, June, 1919. P. M. R. 


vi 


Contents 

PART I 

LOVE AND LONGING 

Foreword.. 

My Songs .1 

The Old Story ..2 

The First Kiss.3 

Nature and Woman.4 

Woman and Sister.5 

A Love-Song . 6 

What Is Poetry?.7 

Winter ..8 

Love Found and Lost ..... 9 

June and December.11 

To Kate.12 

What Are the Stars Made Of ? . . . .13 

A False Partner.14 

I Sometimes Wish.15 

By a Tree.16 

Astronomy.18 

When Love to You Fd Spoken .... 19 

Regret ........ 20 

Like Two Stars.21 

My Pandora.22 

Sweet Death ....... 23 

The Change.24 

I Did Not Betray.26 

Gone.27 

vii 








CONTENTS 


Like a Linnet . 





28 

Too Proud 





29 

We Cannot Part 





30 

To You 





31 

She Is My Sister 





32 

Love. 





33 

The Language of Flowers . 





34 

A Woman’s Tears 





35 

My Bride .... 





36 

I Met Her .... 





38 

Our Secret .... 





39 

Omar Khayyam . 





40 

Before and After 





41 

To Deborah 





42 

To My Love 





43 

Dark Is the Night 





44 

Come to Me 





45 

Why? .... 





46 

To. 





47 

You Left Me 





48 

My Dream .... 





49 

To My Sweetheart 





50 

I Knew Her 





51 

My Home to You Is Open . 





52 

Stolen Moments . 





53 

Vain Reproach . 





55 

To. 





57 

Burning Love-Letters 





58 

I Love You 




• 

60 


V1U 








CONTENTS 


PART II 

AUTUMN FLOWERS 


A Beggar’s Song 






66 

Her Gift . 






67 

The Alchemist . 






68 

The Poet Is Silent 






69 

Among Trees 






70 

My Mother 






72 

My Lost Bliss 






74 

A Dream 






75 

Tears and Smiles 






76 

Thankful 






77 

Heaven and Earth 






78 

Optimism 






79 

My Baby 






81 

To a Child . 






83 

A Tear 






84 

The Changed World . 






85 

Alone 






86 

My Grave . 






87 

Wounded 






88 

The Star of Hope 






89 

My Dreams 






90 

The Coroner’s Verdict 






91 

Shadows of the Past . 






93 

Misspelt 






94 

Mother 






95 

To My Son . 






97 

A Soul’s Journey 






99 


IX 








CONTENTS 


War (1916).101 

Vae Yictis.102 


PART III 

ECHOES OF EXILE 


The Hunt.106 

The Madman ....... 110 

A Chance Acquaintance.113 

The Graveyard in France.116 

To Free Russia (1917).117 

To the Satisfied.118 

The Torah.119 

“No News”.121 

Woman.123 

A Faithful Woman.125 


PART 

CHEQUERED 

IV 

SHADOW 


A Dead Rose 



. 128 

In Tempest 



. 129 

Roses . 



. 130 

Wounded Trees . 



. 131 

The Storm . 



. 132 

Twilight Melody . 



. 134 

Beams 



. 136 


x 















CONTENTS 


Snowflakes. 

. 137 

Shadows . 

. 138 

Sea and Man. 

. 139 

The Summer’s Funeral . . t . 

. 140 

Death of Day. 

. 142 

Poet and Peasant. 

. 144 

The Song of Rest. 

. 145 

The Game. 

. 147 


PART V 


THE DAWN 

OF A NATION 


A Jewish Portrait 


. 150 

The Old Year . 


. 152 

“Your Homeland f” . 


. 154 

To the New Year 


. 156 

My Chanukah Candles 


. 157 

David’s Tent 


. 160 

The Call . 


. 162 

Messiah’s Trumpet 


. 164 

A Leader . 


. 166 

After the British “Declaration” . 

. 167 

Homeward . 

• • • • 

. 168 


xi 











My Songs 


Though the singer will soon be forgotten, 

My song will accomplish its goal, 

For a song that a soul has begotten. 

Forever will live like a soul. 

For the voice that to sing me has bidden 
Is a power that comes from above. 

And in these simple sonnets are hidden 
The gall and the sweetness of love. 

Not ambition to climb Fortune’s steeple 
Made me sing, but a power divine; 

And the woes, and the hopes of my People! 

Are re-echoed in each simple line. 

Not of fame nor of gold was I. dreaming 
When playing my God-bidden part, 

And the song from my heart that is streaming 
Must find a response in a heart. 


[i] 


SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Old Story 

This is the story as old as the skies, 

This is the story of mine: 

I met a maid with star-like eyes— 

My heart—how could it not pine*? 

I know it has ever, ever been so, 

I know it will ever be: 

The deer to the forest ever will go, 

To the juicy clover—the bee. 

The eagle will ever wing high above, 

The wayfarer seek the shade; 

And the heart of a man that is throbbing with love 
Will ever be drawn by a maid. 

So this is my story as old as the earth, 

The soul of my peace and my strife; 

The tale that to joy and to sorrow gives birth— 
The gladdest and saddest of life. 


[2] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The First Kiss 

How old was I? Well, just eighteen, 
And she—about the same; 

The skies were grey, the park was green, 
The moon—a pale-red flame. . . . 

We were alone ... We sat so close . . . 
Dead silence in the park . . . 

I felt her breath — a perfumed rose, 
And all around us—dark . . . 

Such eyes no human eye had seen — 
Two springs of sparkling bliss . . . 

How old was I? Well, just eighteen — 
She gave me but one kiss . . . 

And many years have gone since then 
Of joy and of regret; 

I lived and loved like other men— 

That kiss—I feel it yet! 


[3] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Nature and Woman 

The heavens are blue and the roses are red, 

I love them when calm is my mood; 

Her eyes, too, are blue, and her lips, too, are red— 
Why set they aflame then my blood ? 

I watch the sun rising, I watch its eclipse— 

My joy and my sadness are still; 

Then why should a smile or a pout on her lips 
So rouse me, and stir me, and thrill? 

I gaze at the stars in the firmament far 

And calmly enjoy their soft light. 

Then why should two eyes, and each eye a mere star, 
So haunt me by day and by night? 


[4] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Woman and Sister 

I told her that passion was human; 

Embraced her, caressed her, and kissed her; 
She murmured: “Oh, no! Not as woman, 

I want to be loved as your sister.” 

An effort I made superhuman— 

Persistently tried to resist her: 

But she would be loved as a woman, 

And never as merely a sister. 


[5] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Love-Song 

You sent me a love-song— 

I frankly concede it, 

With you as my love-song 
I hardly, dear, need it; 

For music and beauty— 

The gifts of the graces— 
Far more than in songs are 
In maiden’s embraces. 

My heart, too, my dearest, 
With love-songs is laden, 
But none half so sweet as 
The kiss of a maiden. 


[6] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


What Is Poetry? 

“What is poetry?” she asked me, 

And her soul was deeply stirred, 

As I spoke of dreamy twilight, 

Crooning rill and trilling bird. 

“Poetry,” I said, “is searching 
For the great eternal goal; 

Poetry is heaven’s torch-light 
Kindled by the human soul. 

“Poetry is earth reflected 

In the crystal sea above; 

Poetry is fadeless beauty, 

Quenchless grace, and deathless love. 

“Poetry is man made angel, 

Earth made heaven, toil made art; 

Poetry is God’s great secret 

Whispered to the poet’s heart.” 

As she stood her eyes enkindled, 

Asking softly, “Is it true?” 

I embraced her and I added:— 

“Poetry, my dear, is you.” 


[7] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Winter 

Mighty is the wintry evening, 
Mighty too, I feel; 

Skies of gold, and earth of silver 
And the air is steel. 

With my sweetheart I am driving 
Where—I do not know; 

Diamonds twinkle in the heavens, 
Diamonds in the snow. 

Coachman, drive us faster, faster 
Through the wintry night 

To a spot where men are winters— 
Strong and pure and bright. 

Closer press to me, my sweetheart, 
To my bosom cling; 

Love can blossom in the winter 
Just as in the spring. 


[8] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Love Found and Lost 

I 

Two hills, and between — 

A velvety green, 

Where breezes caressed 
Each blade heaven-blessed. 

A grove, and beyond, 

A silvery pond, 

Reflecting the skies 
With diamond-lit eyes. 

A fresh eve in May, 

A world young and gay, 

A green field below, 

A blue field above, 
’Twas there long ago 
I found my first love! 

II 

A ghetto-walled town, 

A shanty bowed down, 
Half-empty a room 
Enshrouded in gloom, 

A maiden whose life 
Embittered by strife 

[ 9 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Whose face sad and pale 
Told Poverty’s tale, 

A wintry black night, 

No fuel, no light,— 

An earth deaf below, 
A sky mute above— 
’Twas there long ago 
I lost my first love! 


[10] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


June and December 

They say the days in June are long 
And shortest in December; 

But surely, dear, they must be wrong, 
For you and I remember 

We met in June, we used to roam 
Day-long hnong trees and flowers, 

And when at night you left for home— 
How swift had fled the hours! 

The shortest days were all in June; 

We saw the sun descending 

And wished some Joshua’d stop the sun 
And make the days unending. 

But when the sky grew cloud-beset, 

And frost our earth invaded, 

And in December when we met— 

Our dreams, like lilies, faded. 

We met again, as friend meets friend, 
Yet felt so lone and friendless; 

The day we did together spend, 

It seemed so long—so endless. 


v 


[ii] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To Kate 

Believe me not whenever life is drearest 
I say my love has perished long ago; 

The sea has ebbs; you must not think though, dearest, 
It never will again come on the flow. . . . 

A while is gone—the foaming waves are thronging 
And rushing onward, onward to the shore; 

A while is gone—my loving heart is longing 
For you, my sweetheart, ever, evermore. 


[12] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


What Are the Stars Made Of? 

My dearest once asked me, 

Oh, tell me, my love, 

Of what are the stars made 
That twinkle above? 

I kissed her, and told her: 

“The stars, darling, are 
The kisses of lovers— 

Each kiss is a star.” 

She blushingly whispered: 

“Oh, love, is it true? 

And why are tonight, then, 

The stars but so few?” 


[13] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A False Partner 

Love’s partnership agreement 
I signed in haste, 

And all my soul’s vast fortune 
You made me waste, 

You knew your heart was bankrupt— 
Nor pure, nor chaste. 

You knew your heart was bankrupt; 
Defrauding mine, 

You spent its priceless treasure— 

Its love divine; 

And now my soul condemns you 
To pay a fine; 

My life shall stay forever 
From yours apart; 

Our partnership is ended, 

But ere we part— 

Take back all checks dishonored 
Of your false heart. 


[14] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I Sometimes Wish . . . 

I sometimes wish you were a stream, 

And I of dawning day a beam, 

That I might pierce your mute cold heart, 
And life and joy to it impart, 

And make each drop a frisking elf, 

And play with sprites I made myself. 


[15] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


By a Tree 

Know you where I met her? 

By a tree! 

Strangers in the forest 
Both were we. 

Rain poured down and lightning 
Pierced the wood; 

There we two together 
Sheltered stood. 

Whilst we mutely listened 
To each leaf 
Telling tales of sylvan 
Joy and grief, 

Musingly I queried: 

If a tree 

Does not hide its secrets— 

Why should we? 

So to her I pointed 
Out a nest, 

Where two wrens were blessed with 
Love and rest, 

[16] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


And the leafy branches 
O’er us bent, 

Canopied us, nodding 
Their assent. 

From life’s storm a shelter 
Both found we: 
Know you where I met her? 
By a tree! 


[17] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Astronomy 

We walked by night. She asked me what 
I knew about the stars; 

I spoke of comet, planet, moon, 

Of Jupiter and Mars; 

Of sun-eclipses, orbits, zones, 

Of rainbows in the skies; 

And all the time I studied but 
Two glowing stars—her eyes. 

Of sunset and of sunrise, too, 

I spoke, but all the while 
I thought of but one sunrise bright— 

The sunrise of her smile. 

The milky way I full explained; 

The galaxies beneath; 

And looked upon her milk-white throat, 
Her milky row of teeth. 

And when she pressed herself to me 
And brooding looked above, 

I kissed her lips, her eyes, and said: 
“The stars are worlds of love.” 


[18] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


When Love to You I’d Spoken 

When love to you Fd spoken, 

Two witnesses were near: 

A birdling and a streamlet, 

But you alone could hear. 

When of your love Fm dreaming, 
And of your parting kiss, 

The bird and streamlet hear me, 

But you alone I miss. 


[19] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Regret 

I wanted you to be the spark, that kindles 
The dreamer’s soul aflame, 

My torch and light whene’er my power dwindles 
In night, or grief, or shame. 

But deep was, soon, my disillusion, 

You could not play that part; 

And pardon me, oh, pardon my intrusion, 

Into a stranger’s heart. 


[20] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Like Two Stars 

Like two stars we were attracted 
Ere we met; 

Like two stars our zone was ever 
Cloud-beset. 

Like two stars we deemed each other 
Worlds of gold; 

Like two stars we found each other 
Far and cold. 


[21] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Pandora 

Do I love her, do I not, 

Now again I’ve met her? 

Ask me not; I only know, 

I wish I could forget her. 

The thought of her gives great delight, 
And grief and pain still greater; 

She is my joy, she is my woe— 

I love her and I hate her 

She is my sunlight and my cloud, 

My safety and my danger; 

She is my friend, she is my foe, 

She is to me a stranger. 

I know full well I am her slave, 

And know I am above her; 

I pray to heaven that I could 
Nor hate her nor yet love her 


[22] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Sweet Death 

When Moses the heavenly prophet 
Attained on the earth his life’s goal, 

The Angel of Death was reluctant 
To go with his sword for his soul. 

But smilingly whispered Jehovah: 

“No mortal can death ever miss; 

If not by the sword of the Angel 
Then perish he must by my kiss.” 

Jehovah, thy lesson was followed 
By many a goddess since then, 

Who slays not with sword, but with kisses 
The bravest and purest of men. 

And oft in the arms of my charmer, 

’Midst rapture and heavenly bliss, 

I know that one day I shall perish, 

Like Moses of old, from her kiss. 


[23] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Change 

I met her again, and I wondered, 

Oh, can she be truly the same, 

Who once in my soul had enkindled 
A glowing, a heavenly flame! 

Are these the eyes all-piercing 
That shot dart after dart 

Of love and love’s adoration 
Into my worshiping heart? 

Are these the lips that compelled me 
To kiss them again and again? 

The smile my sad heart greeted 
Like sunshine after rain? 

Is she the fay who once turned 

My gloomiest autumn to Spring? 

Is this the woman who erstwhile 

My soul and by blood taught to sing? 

Then where is the spell and the magic 
That made my life joyous and full? 

And what made the woman beside me 
So wearisome, homely and dull? 

[24] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A voice I heard in answer: 

Thy questions are foolish and strange; 
Thy heart, if thou carefully searchest, 

Thou soon wilt discover the change. 


[25] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I Did Not Betray 

Should you meet a lonely maiden 
By a road, where breezes moan, 
Pacing to and fro at twilight; 

Seeking someone, finding none; 

Should she eye you sadly, mutely, 

Hide her tears and turn away— 

You must stop her and must tell her 
That I could not her betray. 

That I thought her far too sacred 
To profane her as my wife, 

That when all my dreams have vanished, 
I had saved one dream for life 


[20] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Gone 

I came back one evening 

And found her no more ... 
My room was as cosy, 

As neat as before. 

Each thing in position: 

The books on the shelf, 
The bed decked with pillows 
She once laced herself. 

Took nothing of value, 

When she did depart, 
Took nothing of value— 
Excepting my heart. . . . 


[27] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Like a Linnet 

They blind the linnet that its trill 
A sweeter note may find, 

And thus, I know, it was her will 
The poet’s soul to blind. 

A flame she kindled in my soul 
And spent it spark by spark; 

Again I see in life no goal, 

Again my path is dark. 

And when of love I sing my song, 

—The sweetest of its kind,— 

The wondrous sounds to her belong— 
For she my soul made blind. .. . 


[28] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Too Proud 

Oh, a heart can talk loud, 

And a heart has an ear; 

And fair stories, my dear, 

From my heart thine could hear— 
Had it spoken; 

But, alas, I’m too proud 

From my path to depart, 

And no tale from my heart 
Thine will hear, though we part— 
Heart-broken. 


[29] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


We Cannot Part 

You cannot part from me, my dear, 

My love knows no eclipse; 

Your oaths are frozen on my ear, 
Your kisses—on my lips. 

I’ll be with you, I’ll live with you, 
Wherever you may go; 

And day and night, and all life through 
You’ll feel my pain and woe. 

Another man you love, and still 
My treacherous friend I claim; 

Your love’s embraces never will 
Conceal your treason’s shame. 

Oh no! from me you cannot part, 
Whatever you may plan; 

You cannot take a man’s whole heart 
And cast away the man. 


[30] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


To You 

Your lightnings of wit used to charm me, 
Your thunders of wrath were too mild; 
And if you intended to harm me, 

You failed in your object, poor child. 

For you, like a tender, sweet flower, 

One cannot help love, but not fear; 

In sweetness and smiles is your power, 

But not in your anger, my dear! 


[31] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


She Is My Sister 

She is my sister only, 

She can’t be more; 

And I am lonely, lonely, 

As e’er before. 

Stead sunlight I am given 
A twinkling star; 

Though brighter is my heaven— 
Yet cold and far. 


[32] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Love 

Hand in hand and lip to lip 
I saw them in a park; 

Hearts aflame and eyes aglow, 
Whisp’ring in the dark. 

Dreaming of my dreams long-dead, 

And of my youth long past, 
Musingly I asked my heart 

How long their love would last. 

Whispering, my heart replied: 

“ Midst earthly stress and strife, 
One hour of bliss, one hour of love, 

Is worth a loveless life! ’ ’ 


[33] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Language of Flowers 

For love—blushing roses, 

And daises for truth, 

I oft used to send her 
In days of my youth. 

We parted. I’m friendless, 
Forsaken and sad, 

I now to my flowers 
“Forget-me-nots” add. 


[ 34 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Woman’s Tears 

I asked her love; she quietly sobbed; 

I did not know 

The silent answer of her tears— 

Yes, or no! 

One day I told her we must part— 

She wept again; 

I knew not what her tears expressed— 
Bliss or pain. 

We parted. Many years had gone; 
Once more we met; 

She clasped my hand and cried—of, joy 
Or of regret ? 

I asked her to explain—in tears 
She turned away: 

Offended, vexed, or grieved, or hurt — 
I could not say. 


[ 35 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Bride 

I was dreaming last night, 

Someone knocked at my door, 
And there entered a maid, 

Whom I knew well before. 

And she said: “Oh, my friend, 

You remember that night, 
When our hearts were as pure, 

As the heaven was bright. 

When you spoke of love’s flame, 
Of its magic and spell, 

Of that marvellous flame 

That no ocean can quell; 

And I gave you my hand, 

And I gave you my heart, 

And you gave me your oath 
That we never would part. 

Many years have since passed, 

But I trust in you still, 

But your promise I wait 
For you to fulfill. 

[ 36 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


You have given your oath 
And I trusted its truth, 

And you now must come back 

To the bride of your youth.” 

Thus she said in her plea 
So impassioned, so true, 

And my lips whispered: “Love, 

I am coming to you.” 

In the morning I woke, 

Bitter tears did I shed; 

I remembered my bride 

Who was long ago dead. 


[ 37 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I Met Her 

I met her in my dream last night, 

So fair and bright, 

With youth and love her eyes aglow, 
As long ago. 

She smiled—her smile lit in the dark 
A golden spark; 

She sang—how did my soul rejoice 
To hear her voice! 

She whispered love. But as she spoke, 
Alas, I woke! 

My cold, my solitary room 
Was wrapped in gloom; 

I wondered why should dreams not be 
From waking free. 


[ 38 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Our Secret 

Our secret carefully hiding, 

We walked through mead and glen, 
In stars and moon confiding, 

But not in men. 

We chose but hidden places, 

We met but people few; 

And yet their smiling faces 
Proclaimed: they knew! 


[ 39 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Omar Khayyam 

Drink of Passion’s golden cup, 
Think not what comes after; 

Treat the virtues of the fools 
With contempt and laughter. 

Of the virtues preached by men 
None than life is greater; 

Live, my friend, today and now— 
And be virtuous later. 

If to you a moment winks— 

Why should you disdain it? 

Drink the cup of life and love, 

To the bottom drain it! 

As the bird, the brook, the wind, 
Play, not knowing sorrow; 

Live and love, for don’t forget— 
You’ll be dead tomorrow! 


[ 40 ] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


Before and After 

Awaiting our meeting 
My glad heart is beating 

A tune: “She is thine, she is thine!” 
But after her leaving 
My sad heart is heaving 

A sigh: “But in vain did you pine!” 


[41] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To Deborah 

Remember when we met that night? 

You looked so fair, so proud; 
Half-jestingly I spoke of love— 

You merely laughed aloud. 

But whether you did laugh with me, 
Or at me, as it seemed— 

Of love and laughter and of you 
I ever since have dreamed. 


[42] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To My Love 

I am king of fields and forests; 

To me belong 

Their hidden priceless treasures 
Of bloom and song. 

But I’m lonely, dear, I’m lonely,— 
For you I long! 

Will you share, oh, dearest, 

My realm with me? 

I’ll bid each bird and flower, 

Each brook and tree, 

To greet you as my princess 
With song and glee. 

There waits for us a palace 
That none can move; 

Its floor of silk—of diamonds 
Its roof above; 

But I’m lonely, dear, I’m lonely — 
Oh, come, sweet love! 


[43] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Dark Is the Night 

Dark is the night, 

Not a beam, not a spark— 

I care not—her eyes 

I can see in the dark. 

Lone in my room, 

Not a word, not a cheer— 

I care not—with me 

Is my best friend—my dear. 

Mute is the earth, 

As the heaven above; 

I care not—my soul 

Sings of beauty and love! 


[ 44 ] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Come to Me 

Be to me, sweetheart, a friend or a sister, 

I care no longer whatever thou be; 

Child of my dreams, I have tried to forget thee, 
Child of my dreams, I am waiting for thee. 

Heaven is witness I sought to forget thee, 
Wandered the earth from its end to its end, 

Sought the acquaintance of men and of women, 
Flattered and flirted, but found not a friend. 

Heaven is witness I sought to forget thee, 

Sought the acquaintance of meadows and skies; 

Flattered the moonlight and flirted with flowers— 
None could so smile as thy lips and thy eyes. 

Did not I try from my heart to expel thee, 

Drown in the stream of my song my sad dream? 

Am I to blame that my song breathes thy spirit— 
Thou art its music, its beauty, its theme! 


[45] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Why? 

One more hour, and I will press her 
To this throbbing heart of mine; 

I will kiss her and caress her, 

And will tell her how I pine. 

She will listen, she will wonder, 

—I will read it in her glynce— 

Those whom fate has rent asunder 
Can they be made one by chance? 

She will reason: “Life has dangers, 
Stronger than the human heart; 

We in life have met as strangers, 

And as strangers we must part.” 

I will hear, agree, and ponder: 

“Yes, she’s soberer than I;” 

Still this throbbing heart will wonder, 
“Why, 0 dearest, tell me why ? . . . 


[46] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To. 

As my first love seemed my last, 

So my last — the first did seem; 

Now, when both are dead and past, 

I again may love and dream. 

Changeful is the dreamer’s heart, 

Thus capricious fate has willed: 

Love comes thither—to depart, 

Dreams are born there—to be killed. 

Maybe, I will dream again: 

Life and love’s sweet dream—and yet, 
Such sad joy and such sweet pain 
No new love can make forget. 


t47] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


You Left Me 

You left me—I thought it were best 
To show no resistance; 

If love can be proved by a test — 
That test is but distance. 

I know we can love though we part; 
In love and devotion 

A heart may well speak to a heart 
Far over the ocean. 

If hearts for each other will fret, 

No distance will wean them! 

If strange, though together, will yet 
Be oceans between them. 

So go, in God’s name, go, my friend, 
The ocean cross over; 

But if you should pine in the end— 
Come back to your lover. 


[48] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Dream 

We met in life’s sadliest hour 
Of sunset and gloom; 

Our dream was an autumn-raised flower, 
Awaiting its doom— 

To fade ere its bloom. 

I wish that I never had met her, 

Alas, it’s too late! 

O God! how I longed to forget her, 
And wipe off my fate 
From memory’s slate. 

I knew that she never would love me,— 
We are too extreme— 

Then why should a dumb sky above me, 
A rock and a stream 
Reflect a dead dream? 


[49] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To My Sweetheart 

(After Shneier) 

Rosy apples, deep-green shadows, 

Velvet meads the grove surrounding, 

And the laughter of the river 

Far and wide and loud resounding. 

Come to me, my angel-sweetheart, 

Ripened fruit and boughs will screen us; 
Me—an apple; thee—an apple; 

And a stolen kiss between us. . . . 

Come, the autumn pale-blue flowers 
Will embrace thee, will caress thee; 

Me—a flower; thee—a flower, 

To my throbbing heart I’ll press thee! 

I have stores of golden legends. 

They to love me will impell thee; 

Me—a legend; thee—a legend, 

And life’s secret I will tell thee. 


[50] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I Knew Her 

(To S. P.) 

I knew her, I met her, I spoke to her oft, 

Her face was so calm and her voice was so soft, 

Her eyes were so lucid, so mellow and mild, 

Her gait was so modest—a child, quite a child! 

I secretly treasured a dream in my heart: 

One day we shall speak — and perchance never part. 
That dream was my treasure—yet each time we met 
My throbbing heart told me: not yet, oh, not yet! 

One night when the noise of the city was hushed, 

I came out to meet her—she saw me and blushed; 

Her eyes were alit with a soul-kindled glance, 

And wistfully gazing as though in a trance; 

Her bosom was heaving, her murmur was strange, 

I knew not the reason, I guessed not the change, 

And when I implored her to tell me my fate; 

She blushingly whispered: too late, friend, too 
late! . . . 


[51] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Home to You Is Open 

My door to you is open, 

I never bar my gate; 

Whenever you will call me 
Will never be too late. 

Come in, I will not ask you 
The reason why you went. 

With whom you were last evening, 
And how the hours were spent. 

Why ask these childish questions— 
Their answers well I know: 

Life called you to a banquet, 

You could not help but go. 

Come straight into my parlor 
And have no fear at all— 

I too have heard life calling, 

And answered to its call. 


[52] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Stolen Moments 

Take back all the years that life gave me, 

But leave me the moments I stole; 

The years, the sad years did enslave me, 

The moments gave wings to my soul. 

I remember that stolen half-hour: 

When fragrance and song filled the air, 
The fields were beginning to flower, 

My love like the spring-time was fair. 

The lilacs alit with their blossom, 

The lisp of the breeze in the wood, 

Each heave of my sweetheart’s full bosom— 
The thrill that it sent through my blood! 

The smile and the glance of my dearest 
To passion and joy giving birth, 

The sky looking bluest and clearest, 

The paradise men call the earth! 

The noise in the trees we could trust not, 

Our kisses suppressed and yet loud; 

Her passionate whisper: “You must not!” 
Her glances, half yielding, half proud! 

[53] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


Who cared then for wealth or for morals, 
For treasures below or above; 

Than heaven, or diamonds, or corals, 

I valued one moment of love. 

Of all my years lived I prize only 

The moments, the moments I stole; 
The years were so empty, so lonely — 

The moments gave wings to my soul. 


[54] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Vain Reproach 

Your fate, dearest child, you deplore, 

And sigh that I love you no more; 

Why sigh and reproach me in vain, 

When you can my love win again . . . 

Now push my hand gently away, 

And say, as you once used to say: 

“You cannot remain with me long— 

My ‘Ma’ said last night it is wrong .. 

And after you say to me this, 

Be vexed when I ask for a kiss, 

With laughter run out of the room, 

And leave me aflame in the gloom . . . 

Then come in and smilingly blush; 

When I say: “sweet love 1” you say: “hush!” 
t Be sulky and don’t let me speak, 

And don’t let my lips touch your cheek, 

* Unplait your long gold-waving hair, 

Stand angry and fairy-like fair, 

And be just as once you have been, 

My princess of sweet seventeen. . . . 

Oh, dearest, I see by your smile, 

You think me so cruel and vile, 

[55] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I read in your eyes filled with gloom: 
“A lily once faded can’t bloom; 

A beautiful dream will not make 
One happy, when one is awake . . 

But dearest, if this be the truth, 

Why claim the dead love of my youth? 






[56] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To. 

Despise the blazing day, 

But greet the single ray, 

That comes across your way 
And slowly fades away— 

Its memory endures; 

And when the night is stark, 

And lifeless, dumb and dark— 

A stray note from a lark, 

A falling star, a spark— 

Oh, greet them—they are yours! 


[57] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Burning Love Letters 

Love letters a bundle 

I threw into the flames, . . . 

Silently I witness 

Burning precious names. 

Here is charming Olga, 

Time, oh, how it flies— 

Features half-forgotten, 

Can’t forget her eyes. 

Here is little Florence, 

As in days of old: 

Lips — like fresh-plucked cherries, 
Hair—a wave of gold. 

Now comes dainty Queenie, 
Fairy-like a maid; 

Hours of bliss she gave me, 

Years of tears I paid. 

Here is sweetest Gracie— 

Purity and mirth— 

Tell me not that angels 

Walk not on this earth! 

[58] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


All my dreams and phantoms 
One by one come back; 

All my dreams and phantoms 
Turning red, then black. . . . 

Blossoms of the garden 
Of my restless youth, 

Bleached and faded portraits, 
Shadows of life’s truth. . . . 

Now at last comes Annie— 

From my place I start: 

Wicked flames, oh, spare it— 
Why, this cost a heart! 

Spare it, pray, oh, spare it, 

Just a moment wait! 

My hand I stretch to save it— 
Alas, too late, too late! 


[ 59 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I Love You 

(To Esther) 

“What is love?” you asked me, child, 

And in doubt you gazed and smiled, 

For your heart, your virgin heart 
Still is safe from Cupid’s dart. . . . 

But there soon will come a day, 

When “I love you” you will say, 

When of men beneath the sun 
One will be your only one. . . . 

Wondrous things will happen then 
Which will alter world and men, 

Which will make in chorus sing 

Bird and breeze, and brook, and spring, 

And our gloom bespotted globe 

Make itself in radiance robe. 

Make the heavens chant a hymn 
Like your heart—to him, to him! 

Sweetly-sad and sadly-sweet 
They “I love you” will repeat. 

[ 60 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
The earth and the heaven will sing; 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
As lilies love dew in the spring. 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
For you day and night do I long, 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
For love is life’s beautiful song. . . 

Yes, my child, it may seem strange, 

But in truth the world will change 
Greener will be field and dell, 

Sweeter will the roses smell, 

Brighter will the heavens shine 
And your heart will sweetly pine. . . . 

Then a sparklet from the skies 
Will be kindled in your eyes, 

Ah, my child, that very spark 

Lit the world when worlds were dark. . . . 

When Jehovah made our earth 

Frail like infants after birth, 

He upon it gazed and smiled, 

Said: “I love you” to his child. . . . 

Yet, my darling, do not deem 
That love’s path is one fair dream, 

That your lover’s smile or glance 
Will of life make one long trance, 

[ 61 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


That each day, and all life-long 
You will hear that magic song, 

Ever soar in rapturous mirth, 

Never heed our care-worn earth. . . . 

That to love means hence to live— 

All to take and naught to give. . . . 

“I love you, I love you, my sweetheart— 
For comfort and pleasure I crave; 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 

Then you be my gold-fettered slave. 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 

To you from on high I look down; 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart— 
Then I am your kingdom and crown. . . 

Nay, “I love you” does not mean: 

I shall be your mistress-queen, 

You shall serve me night and day, 

Slave and toil, my whims obey. . . . 

Child, “I love you” rather means: 

All the crowns of all the queens 
I shall gladly, gladly give 
With my chosen one to live. 

I will bring you comfort, rest, 

Nestling at your faithful breast, 

Make your home a godly shrine, 

Where your honor will be mine; 

Be a mother and a wife, 

[ 62 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Be a friend and mate in life, 

Offer you a woman’s wealth: 

Beauty, faith, and youth, and health, 
And, if need be, rock night-long 
My sick baby with a song. . . . 

Child, “I love you” means: to you 
I shall be forever true, 

With my lover, husband, friend, 

I shall go to earth’s far end, 

And a cottage small and dim 
Will a palace be—with him. . . . 

Yea, I love you! joy and care 
I with you will ever share, 

Want or riches, shame or pride— 

You will find me by your side. 

Child, “I love you” means: no chain 
Shall our sacred love restrain, 

As the stars and as the sea 
Be it pure and be it free, 

Be it, too, the kindling fire 
That to great deeds shall inspire; 

From this day and till life’s end 
You my faithful guide and friend. 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
With you I will fearlessly go; 

I love you, I love you, my sweetheart 
Through sorrow and worry and woe. 

[ 63 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
For better or worse you are mine; 
I love you, I love you, my sweetheart, 
My love is unselfish, divine. . . 

Such, my darling, is true love 
That makes heaven smile above, 

That makes angels bless the day, 

When “I love you” you must say. . . . 


[ 64 ] 




Part Two 

Autumn Flowers 


SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Beggar’s Song 

Have you met a beggar lying 
By a lonely road at night, 

When the autumn-wind is sighing, 

Pouring out a stream of fright? 

Trees with branches black and shaking, 
Looming ghost-like as they moan, 

Clouds with storm and lightning pregnant— 
He is homeless and alone. 

Shadows frighten him and tease him, 

And he cannot fall asleep, 

And he suddenly starts singing, 

Singing, so as not to weep. 

I am often like the beggar, 

When my night seems cold and long; 

On life’s lonely road deserted— 

Not to weep—I sing a song! 


[ 66 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Her Gift 

She came to me when I was young, 

Ere I was lone and vagrant, 

And brought me as a gift a wreath 
Of flowers sweet and fragrant. 

“This wreath, my child, an emblem is 
Of golden sun-lit hours, 

And may the dreamer’s songs be sweet, 
And fresh, and pure, as flowers.” 

Alas! Too soon I lost my spring, 
And never, never found it; 

And if my song had one bright ray, 
There was a cloud around it. 

And if my heart had one bright hope, 
My nearest friend abused it; 

Oh, Muse, take back thy beauteous gift, 
I never, never used it. 


[ 67 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Alchemist 

The Alchemist am I of old, 

Transfusing base metals to gold. 

The sadness, the sighs, and the tears 
With which life has filled all my years, 

The sorrows, the woes and the wrongs— 
Behold, I transfused into songs. 

The Alchemist am I of old, 

Transfusing base metals to gold. 

My heart all ablaze, like a flame, 

Makes hymns of my pain and my shame. 

Of scoffing, and laughter, and scorn, 

My rhythmical ballads are born. 

The Alchemist am I of old, 

Transfusing base metals to gold. 

The pity is but that my art 
Consumes in its process my heart. 


[68] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Poet Is Silent 

The poet is silent ... no song can he sing, 

The strings of his harp are all broken; 

He once sang of youth, and of love and of spring— 
These words must no longer be spoken. 

For youth lies entombed and awaiting its fate 
To pour out its life-blood like water; 

It dreams not of love, but of force and of hate, 

Its pride and its glory is slaughter. 

And spring, golden spring, to the poet is dead, 

And nature can no more inspire; 

The flowers appear to him all colored red, 

The air—full of smoke and of fire. 

The song of the breeze and the song of the bird 
Are silenced by cannon in battle; 

The shepherd no longer is leading his herd, 

The men now are driven like cattle. 

The poet is silent, for dead is his spring, 

His song, and his joy, and his gladness; 

The poet is silent, for he cannot sing 
Of wrath, and of hate, and of madness. 

[69] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Among Trees 

I am walking through the wood, 

O’er my childhood’s days I brood, 
When with trees I played alone— 
Mates I’ve ever loved and known. 
Aspen, birch, and oak and elm, 
Knights with golden shield and helm, 
Chestnut, maple, spruce and pine, 
All brave playmates were of mine. 
Fir and poplar, nut and pear, 
Silver-leaved, and tall, and fair, 
Walnut, willow, hemlock, beech, 
Sun-bejewelled, gold-robed each, 
Here I am, your mate and friend, 
Come with you a day to spend. 

Men are trees — saith Sacred Writ, 
Aye, but they are tempest-split; 
Storm of life has bent them down 
In the human wood—the town. . . . 
Split and broken they are all: 
Human pines are dwarfy small, 
Human oaks are thunder-rent, 
Juiceless, leafless, dry and bent— 

So to you, my mates, I came 
To escape from human shame. 

[70] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Once when I was small and weak 
Sylvan tongue you taught me speak, 
And in young and fragrant spring— 1 - 
All my fairest songs to sing. 

Now when Dm your weary guest, 

You, my friends, shall give me rest, 
Maybe I, in childhood’s mood, 

Will forget the human wood. . . . 


[71] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Mother 

They sent me a message, 

And curtly it read; 

But four words were in it: 
“Thy mother is dead!” 

My heart remained tranquil 
And tearless my eye, 

How could I believe that 
An angel could die? 

The time-tide is flowing— 
My childhood and youth 

Eloped with life’s beauty 
And virtue and truth. 

When dreamless I wander 
In search of a goal; 

My mother, my angel, 
Revives in my soul. 

And oft w T hen my life seems 
So aimless and vile, 

To me, as in childhood, 

She comes with a smile; 

[72] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


She lovingly whispers: 

“My child, don’t despair,” 
And cheeringly helps me 
My burden to bear. 

And sometimes when carried 
Away by life’s tide, 

And lost in the darkness— 

She comes as a guide, 

And murmuring softly: 

“Thou goest astray,” 

She kindles a torch-light, 

And points a new way. 

They sent me a message, 

And sadly it read; 

But four words were in it— 
“Thy mother is dead!” 

I did not believe it, 

No tears could I shed: 

A mother—an angel— 

How can she be dead? 


[73] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Lost Bliss 

I have left my native village, 

Father’s blessing, mother’s kiss; 

I have left my native village— 

And have left in it my bliss. 

In a strange land I awakened, 

Saw around me greed and hate; 

When I found my bliss was missing, 

I went home, but came too late. 

Father, mother, died of sorrow; 

They my treasure could not save; 

Would not trust my bliss to strangers, 
So they took it to their grave. 

Now I wander, finding nowhere 

Rest, or joy, or cheer, or mirth; 

Knowing that my bliss is buried 
In my dear, my native earth. 


[74] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Dream 

I dreamt that my heart was cremated, 

My ashes interred in an urn, 

But under the dull-glowing ashes 

The sparklets of love did still burn. 

They burned and glimmered and sparkled, 

And wide o’er the graveyard they spread, 

And pierced the tombs and the gravestones, 
And pierced the hearts of the dead. 

And out of the tombs arose straightway 
Of men and of women a crowd, 

Their long-quenched eyes re-kindled 

They sang and they chattered aloud. 

In passion embracing each other, 

They lifted their heads and they said: 

“The love that the earth has denied us 

Shall triumph in graves ’mongst the dead.” 


[75] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Tears and Smiles 

For world and mankind once I cried, 
They seemed so base, so vile, 

And when I found my tear-well dried, 
Resolved ’twere best to smile. 

I look on mankind as before, 

But somehow it appears, 

That men deserve my smiles far more 
Than they deserved my tears. 


[76] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Thankful 

I am thankful every day 
For every dewdrop, every ray. 

For sunshine, as for storm and rain. 
For gladness as for grief and pain. 
Howe’er the gods of fate behave— 
Life is better than the grave. 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Heaven and Earth 

“Higher, spirit, higher, 

Bear me from the sod, 

To the orb of fire, 

To the realm of God. 

For my soul is pining 

To approach the sphere, 

Where the stars are shining 
Silver-lit and clear. 

That it may, ascending, 

To that realm above, 

In a trance unending 

Dream of bliss and love.” 

* * * 

And a voice I heard on high: 

Not for mortals is the sky, 

And the dreamer's joy and woe 
Are on earth—below, below! 

For the brightest stars of gold 
Are but passionless and cold, 

And the dreamer's soul in strife 
Throbs with passion and with life; 
For in man of clay and sod 
Thrives his love and reigns his God! 

[78] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Optimism 

When I see the sky beclouded, 
Ghost-like shadows everywhere 
Creeping over dale and mountain — 
Why despair? 

May the earth be wrapped in darkness, 
Roar the thunder—rage the gale, 
After storm the sun shines milder 
On hill and vale. 

When the birds in autumn leave us, 
Warbling farewell in the air, 

And the woods grow bare and silent— 
Why despair? 

Soon new songs the birds will bring us 
With the bright, the golden spring, 
And in new-born groves still sweeter 
They will sing. 

When I see the tender flowers, 
Yesterday yet fresh and fair, 

Paling, drooping, slowiy fading, 

Why despair? 

Nature, kindest of all mothers, 

Will preserve their seed alive, 
Waking with the sun’s caresses 
They’ll revive. 


[79] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


When my soul with grief afflicted 
Can no more its burden bear, 

Light and hope seem gone forever, 

Why despair? 

After storm the sun shines brighter, 

After mist the sky’s more blue, 

And a heart that’s passed through sadness 
Loves more true. 


[80] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Baby 

(To Sulamith) 

At times I know that I am only 
A wingless bird in Nature’s cage; 

I feel so weary and so lonely 

That every moment seems an age. 

I doubt the truths of earth and heaven, 
But doubt is vain as is belief; 

Life seems so cold and mute, that even 
Our tears and sighs give no relief. 

Then all at once I hear the patter 
Of swiftly-tripping little feet, 

And soon—my baby’s sing-song chatter 
So pure, so innocent, so sweet: 

“Oh, papa, dear, I saw a Polly, 

But what she said I could not guess; 

And papa, won’t you tell my dolly 
To play with me, and wash and dress? 

“I gave her toys,—she won’t have any, 

I told her, I would tell my Pa, 

And papa, may I have a penny, 

And papa, do you love my Ma?” 

[81] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Two little eyes like opals shining 
Are peeping straight into my eyes, 

Two little arms my neck entwining 
Dispel my cares, and tears, and sighs. 

I feel no longer sad and weary, 

And gone is doubt, and pain, and strife — 
I was mistaken, little dearie, 

There is both truth and love in life. 


[82] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To a Child 

Child, you are smiling—liow bright is your smile; 

Child, you are singing—your song rings so true I 
Smile to me, sing to me yet for a while, 

Once I was smiling and singing as you. 

Wrecked on life’s ocean is youth’s magic ship, 

Mastless and oarless my boat floats since then; 
Life swept away the bright smile from my lip, 

And my fair song—it was poisoned by men. 

Smile to me, sing to me yet for a while, 

Make me forget my past sorrow and care: 

Life is so dismal, so dull, and so vile, 

Smiles are so few and sweet songs are so rare. 


[83] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Tear 

I dropped a tear in my garden— 

Tomorrow the sun will appear, 
Mistaking my tear for a dew-drop 
Will turn into vapor my tear. 

I know that the sun will discover 
That someone has led him astray; 

My tear, like a cloud, will with darkness, 
With gloom and with grief veil the day. 


[ 84 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Changed World 

You cannot tell me nought has changed; 
In vain—I know the truth. . . . 

The world and men are not the same 
As they were in my youth. 

The heavens never are so bright 
The fields are not so green, 

The lilies not so white and pure 
As they in youth have been. 

The lake is not so cool and clear, 

(In it I used to swim), 

The wood has lost its mystic charm, 

The vales look bare and dim. 

I miss the glow in maidens’ eyes, 

Their magic lure I miss; 

And maidens’ lips are faint and pale, 
They seem not made to kiss. . . . 

You say that I am growing old, 

And am from life estranged; 

I swear, you are mistaken, friend, 

I swear, the world has changed! . . . 

[ 85 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Alone 

The dancing is over, 

And quenched is the light; 

The hall is deserted 

That throbbed with delight; 

Alone am I left here— 

Alone in the night. 

Long silent the music, 

The laughter, the dance, 

Long gone are the fairies, 

Long broken the trance; 

’Tis empty and gloomy 
Wherever I glance. 

The soft silken garments 
Are rustling no more; 

The flowers half-trodden 
Lie pale on the floor— 

And where shall I go to, 

When barred is each door? 

A voice I hear whisper: 

Thy youth was a ball, 

Thy flowers—illusions— 

Long faded are all; 

And dark and deserted 
Thy heart is—the hall. 

[ 86 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Grave 

Not in the sand of a desert, 

Nor in the depth of a cave; 

Deep in a flower-decked valley 
Shall be the site of my grave. 

Flowers shall blossom around me, 

Soothing my rest with their breath; 

Flowers my life had denied me 

Shall be the gift of my death; 

Breezes shall bear me their fragrance, 
Lone in my grave when I doze; 

Out of my heart shall one morning 
Blossom a sweet-scented rose. 

Wooing his maiden, the lover 

Shall over my grave stop to rest, 

Pluck out the rose for his sweetheart, 
Pin on her love-throbbing breast. 

Blushing the maiden shall answer, 

Pay for his gift with a kiss; 

I of life’s joy will be dreaming, 

Joy I was fated to miss. 

[ 87 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Wounded 

A soldier lies hurt in the field, 

But he to despair will not yield; 

His pain he will bravely endure, 

And dream of his rescue and cure. 

Though hour after hour slowly goes, 
Though paler and fainter he grows, 

Yet twilight, and sunlight's eclipse 
Still find him—a smile on his lips. 

* * * 

I too have been wounded by fate; 

For someone to save me I wait, 

And bleeding I lie on life's field, 

Still trusting my wound will be healed. 

* 

But sunset increases my pain, 

And I am still waiting in vain. . . . 


[ 88 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Star of Hope 

Sails the mastless ship of Fate 
On life’s ocean dark and deep. 

By the twinkling star of hope 

Into the Captain’s room I peep, 

And the chart of life I read— 

Curves, and lines, and dots untold; 

Curves of black and lines of grey, 

Rarely but a dot of gold. 

Faint and small the dots of joy, 

Black and long the curves of pain. . . 

And my star of hope grows dim— 

In the dark I sail again! 


[ 89 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Dreams 

My dreams are merry songbirds, 
They soar towards the sun. 

My fate—the cruel hunter— 

He shoots them one by one. 

At times a dream comes knocking 
Upon my window pane, 

It sings so sadly, sweetly, 

It breaks my heart in twain. 

Then comes from fate a bullet 
And kills my birdling young; 

I see it groundward falling 

With half its song unsung. . . . 


[90] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Coroner’s Verdict 

When they some day will find me dead 
Of love and love’s sweet pain, 

Some coroner o’er my corpse will try 
The cause to ascertain. 

He’ll wrinkle long his forehead wise, 

His verdict thus he’ll start: 

“The evidence all goes to show— 

He died of weakened heart. 

His heart was frail, and then, perhaps, 

He was exposed to cold. . . 

Thus will decide the poet’s death 
The coroner wise and old. 

And through death’s slumber I will list; 
Within the cooled-ofl: breast 

My heart again will take on flame 
And burningly protest: 

“This heart was frail? The heart of flint, 

That stood fate’s sharpest darts, 

That throbbed with hope, and love, and faith, 
The strongest heart of hearts? 

[91] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Did I take cold ? whose soul was flame, 
A sunbeam every breath? . . . 

My life, old fool, to you was strange, 
As strange is now my death!” 


[92] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Shadows of the Past 

If past sorrows and dreams were all dead, 

Like a shadow from memory fled, 

Like the tears that for them I have shed,— 

Were sad moments but moments to last— 
I would willingly bury the past. 

But each dream on life’s battlefield slain 
Rises ghost-like again and again, 

And I strive to expel it in vain, 

Perished visions keep haunting me yet— 
How can I past sorrows forget? 


[93] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Misspelt 

Fate my life did write— 
Never spelt it right; 

This is why I felt 
All my life misspelt. . . . 

First it blotted youth, 

Then my faith in truth. 
Left on love a stain, 

Stead of joy wrote pain; 
Crossed out in the end 
Comrade, mate and friend, 
Till all life, indeed, 

One mistake I read. 

If to spell—I ask— 

Is so hard a task; 

And capricious fate 
Is illiterate,— 

Why then could it spell 
Other lives so well? . . . 


[94] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Mother 

Of all the words in human tongue 
There is a word which is a song, 

There is a word we must express 
With pleasure sweet as a caress, 

With joy as radiant as a beam, 

As tranquil as an infant’s dream, 

A word of magic and of lure, 

A word that makes us child-like pure— 
That wondrous word is Mother! 

Of all the memories of youth 
When love and happiness were truth, 
When with a thousand diamond eyes 
Looked lovingly on us the skies, 

When tree and flower, field and wood 
All smiled and whispered: “Life is good,” 
When we had faith in God and man— 
No memory is sweeter than 

The memory of Mother. 

Of all the friends in life we make 
But one will never us forsake; 

Will crown our joy and share our woe, 
Will stay with us, though others go, 

[95] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Her lips will bless, though others curse, 
Who, when we’re grown, is still our nurse, 
Who’ll dream of us when we are far, 

And be through life our guiding star— 
That faithful friend is Mother. 

And I had one in days gone by. . . . 

She died? Oh, no, she could not die! 
When life seems void and men seem vile 
I hear her cheer, I see her smile, 

I feel her presence ever near, 

When sad—I see her falling tear, 

When sick—she watches o’er my bed— 
She is not dead, she is not dead 

That Angel called my Mother! 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To My Son 


My son, there is a higher aim, 

A better aim, 

A prouder aim, 

Than gold and gold-bought pleasures. 

My son, there is a greater wealth, 

A truer wealth, 

A rarer wealth, 

In nature’s hidden treasures. 

My son, there is a loftier law, 

A juster law, 

A holier law 

Than priest’s or Rabbi’s preaching. 

My son, there is a nobler creed, 

A simpler creed, 

A happier creed, 

That bird and plant are teaching. 

My son, there is a better good, 

A truer good, 

More lasting good, 

Than men on thee can shower; 

[97] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My son, there is a finer love, 

A deeper love, 

A sweeter love, 

In breeze, and blade and flower. 

My son, there is a higher school, 

A freer school, 

More famous school, 

Than lecture-hall and College; 

My son, there are the hills and vales, 
The woods and fields, 

The lakes and streams, 

Where nature teaches knowledge. 

My son, to man if right thou speak, 

If good thou speak, 

If truth thou speak, 

He still may not believe thee. 

My son, let nature be thy friend, 

Thy mate and friend, 

Thy bosom friend— 

She never will deceive thee. 


[98] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Soul’s Journey 

I 

Onward, onward sped the Angel 
Nearing to his goal, 

Swiftly in his wings he carried 
To the earth a soul. 

Topaz, amethyst and opal 
Interfused in one 

Was the soul that softly glimmered 
Like the spring-born sun. 

From on high a bright-winged angel 
Joyously looked down, 

On the glowing spark that broke off 
From a cherub’s crown. 

And he whisperingly blessed it; 
“Live for love and mirth, 

Unbespotted as in heaven 
Pure remain on earth!” 

II 

Fast and faster hurried Satan, 
Nearing to his goal, 

[99] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


From the earth he swiftly carried 
Through the clouds a soul. 

Gloom and shadows veiled the orbit, 
Whither Satan sped; 

And the soul he bore deep sadness 
All around it shed. 

In her grave they laid a woman 
Tired and fallen in strife; 

Someone laughed and scoffed and cursed 
Earth and men and life. 


[1001 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


War (1916) 

War 

On sea and shore! 

Man’s mind is mute; his cannons roar; 

No thought, no word, but gun and sword, 
And death—Supremest lord! 

Fight 

By day and night 

For mind is wrong, and Might is right; 

For Peace is shame, and Slaughter—fame, 
In Satan’s hallowed name. 

Well 

Reflect, and tell: 

Will ever end the reign of hell ? 

And search and scan, and find who can— 
Will ever man be man? 


[101] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Vae Victis 

Long vanished is my youthful dream 
That made of life a poet’s theme— 

It dried up like a shallow stream, 

And left behind life’s mire. 

No trace is left of that deep power 

That crowned each day and graced each hour, 

Made earth a garden in its flower, 

Illumed by love’s great fire. 

Long gone are childhood’s faith and hope— 
That gave to life its depth and scope. 

That made me climb life’s mountain slope, 
And know no fear nor danger. 

The fight is o’er. . . . There comes a lull; 

My soul is mute, my eye is dull; 

The heart that was with passion full 
Is now to life a stranger. 

And I was strong, oh, giant-strong! 

And how I once to fight did long! 

Against life’s ugliness and wrong 
I battled like a hero! 

And fearing neither life nor death, 

I mountains moved with boundless faith. 

I melted rocks with love’s hot breath— 

Cold hearts below life’s zero! 


[102] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


And I was proud—yes, princely-proud! 

I never yielded to the crowd; • 

And when I spoke—my voice was loud, 
And clear, and bright, and truthful. 
And when I sang, my song was bold, 

It warmed the souls that life made cold, 
In young that grew untimely old, 

In old that ne’er were youthful. 

Oh, do not ask me how it came 

That I should yield to this great shame; 

For—maybe, I am not to blame— 

There were no friends around me. 

I felt my struggle and my pain 
For world and men were all in vain; 

And link by link I forged the chain 
With which at last life bound me. 

And now I plod the trodden track, 

And sometimes when I would go back, 

I feel that will and heart I lack, 

And know there’s no returning; 

And in life’s flood without an ark, 

When winds are cold and nights are dark, 
I wait till quenched is that last spark 
That in my soul is burning. 


[103] 










Part Three 

Echoes of Exile 


SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Hunt 
I 

Piping flutes and clashing cymbals, 
Swarthy gypsies dance and play; 
Pan Brovitzky—Polish Squire— 
Entertains his guests today. 

Tinkling glasses, glowing faces, 

Flashing eyes and sparkling wine, 
Pan Brovitzky’s friends are sportsmen 
Of an old, a noble line. 

Now the guests and hounds are ready: 

Huntsmen fill the squire’s court, 
Cups are emptied, rifles loaded, 

Horses saddled for the sport. 


II 

Sunset nears. The fog grows denser, 
Mantled is the wood in gloom; 

And the North wind sweeps the snowdrifts 
With its giant icy broom, 

[106] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Roads effacing, tracks erasing, 

Leaving of no path a clue. 

Far away beyond the forest 

Plods his way a weary Jew. 

After six long days of working 
’Midst the tillers of the soil, 

He goes home to meet the Sabbath 
Bidding rest from care and toil. 

Dreaming of the Princess Sabbath, 

Heaven’s bride so sweet and mild— 

Home he hurries where await him 

His pale wife and only child. . . . 

Ill 

The riders are leaving the forest. . . . 

Brovitzky, the crowd passing through 

Sees silent and humbly saluting— 

The dreaming and shivering Jew. . . . 

The sportsman calls loud to his comrades 
Excited and merry and gay— 

“See, comrades, a beast is before us— 

A joke on this cur let us play. 

These leeches they spin not and toil not, 
Yet live on the fat of the land. . . .” 

And loosing his bloodthirsty wolfhounds 
He utters the fatal command. 


[107] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


And helpless the horror-struck victim 
Escapes in despair to the wood; 

In vain! They are swifter than he is, 

The hounds that are hungry for blood. 

A shriek—and the dogs overtake him. 

The joke is amusing indeed, 

Afar rings the noblemen’s laughter, 
Accomplished is nobly the deed. . . . 

IV 

Song and mirth, and jovial chatter 
Fill the wood and echo loud; 

Galloping proceed the sportsmen 
Blood-excited, gay and proud. 

The affair was so amusing— 

How he fought with hounds untamed. . . 

Not in vain are Pan Brovitzky 

And his noble neighbors famed. 

Laughter, mirth and jovial chatter; 

Proud and happy is the crew. . . . 

Bleeding, in the snowdrift buried, 

Still and frozen lies the Jew. 

V 

Bright and cosy is the cottage 
Nestling in the wood; 

With her babe a pale young woman 
At the window stood. 


[108] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Pressing tenderly her darling 
To her heaving breast, 

She is dreaming of her husband 
Due for Sabbath rest. 

“Never has he missed a Sabbath, 
Why tonight so late?” 
Moaning is the wind and sighing, 
Knocking at the gate. 

But at last the door springs open, 
In some peasants ran 
“Still and frozen we discovered 
In the wood this man. 

Who is he, this hapless stranger, 

Can you, woman, tell?” 

****** 

With her babe pressed to her bosom 
On the corpse she fell. 


[ 109 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Madman 

. . . .Before my window night by night 
He watched the stars with wild delight. . . . 

Who was this madman? None could tell; 
One night—I still remember well— 

I spoke to him. . . . With burning eyes 
He told me why he searched the skies. 

A lone and orphaned Jewish boy, 

His childhood was deprived of joy; 

He lost his father ere his birth, 

Not long his mother stayed on earth. 

He had no brother, sister, mate, 

Deprived of love he knew but hate, 

Until he took a loving wife— 

A sister, friend, and mate in life. 

A child was born—a longed-for guest— 
Who made his home a love-blessed nest. 
He toiled all day, but did not grieve, 

For when he came back home at eve, 

All care and worry of the day 
His loving angels kissed away. . . . 

And then. . . . Oh, then that fateful day! 
Their town besieged by beasts of prey; 

[ 110 ] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


And men were slain, and infants maimed, 

And mothers racked, and maidens shamed, 

And some escaped to hide in caves, 

And some in ruins found their graves, 

And yells and wailings pierced the sky— 
“Pogrom” they called it—God knows why, 

The mob was merciless and wild— 

That day he lost his wife and child. . . . 

He found the mother calm, at rest, 

The pallid babe pressed to her breast, 

Her face, as ever, sweet and good— 

Her lips a trifle stained with blood. . . . 

He prayed in vain ; there was no hope, 

The skies were mute, and would not ope. . . 

He sat alone; none heard his cry: 

Until one night he saw the sky 
Lift higher, higher from the sod, 

Until it reached the zone of God . . . 

And to his gaze was then revealed 
The blue, the boundless heaven’s field, 

And angels numberless in crowds 

Were sowing stars among the clouds. . . . 

And there ’midst stars that gently smiled 
He recognized his wife and child. . . . 

Since then when stars the night-land greet 
His wife and child he comes to meet. 


cm] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


He speaks to them. . . . with him they stay 
Throughout the night, till break of day. 

“But tell me—asked he—pale and sad— 
Why should the people call me mad? 


[ 112 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Chance Acquaintance 

The night was mild. . . . 

The moon looked down 
Upon the town 

And faintly smiled. . . . 
She calmly came, 

Approached me near, 

And whispered: dear, 

Tonight I’m free. . . . 

I have no home. . . . 

Would you not come, 

My friend, with me? 

I was a child! 

Her face was fair, 

Her gait was proud, 

Her gaze was bright, 

She clasped my hand 
And held it tight, 

I did not mind— 

She seemed so kind, 

I went with her. . . . 

I asked her name, 

She told me not; 

Her father’s name— 

She long forgot; 

[ 113 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Her mother’s name? 

She whispered low: 

“It is a shame— 

You shall not know.” . . . 

And then she spoke: 
“You are too young 
To understand. . . . 

I had a heart 
Which someone broke, 
And then he flung 
Each part 
Into the street. 

He broke with it 
My youth as well. ... 
And e’er since then 
My heart I sell 
To men I meet, 

Each night a bit— 

To thousand men ; 

And if you care 
One part to share, 

Then come with me— 
Tonight I’m free. . . .” 

I gazed at her, 

And for a while 
I thought her smile 
Betrayed a woe, 

A hidden fright— 

My heart was stirred— 
I never heard 


[114] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Of broken hearts 
That sold in parts. 

I bade her go. . . . 

She looked at me 

Imploringly 

As off she stepped. . . . 

And as I went 
In musings bent, 

She laughed aloud, 

And straight she wept. . . . 


[115] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Graveyard in France 

Somewhere in France, where the cannons were 
thundering 1 , 

Three hundred Jews lie forever entrenched; 
Wafting in twilight pale cherubs are wondering 
Why these young spirits were quenched. 

Lone are their graves, with no symbol adorning them, 
Neither a crescent, a cross, nor a star; 

Mothers beweeping them, sisters bemouming them 
Never will know where they are. 

Maybe an eagle, will, hovering over them, 

Tired of its flight, on the graveyard descend; 
Keenest of sight, it will gaze and discover them, 
Greet them maybe as a friend. 

Maybe an eagle will their silent history 

Save from the graveyard and carry on high; 
Maybe that heaven will solve their sad mystery— 
Whom they have died for and why? 


[116] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


To Free Russia (1917) 

Free Russia, I owe you a song, 

0 land of my love and my hate, 

Long have I suffered, too long 
For coming on earth through your gate. 

I hear you have thrown off your yoke, 

I hear you have broken your chain; 

But my childhood and youth you once broke 
Can never be mended again. 

My heart with deep gladness was filled 
When hearing your freedom’s sweet voice, 

But my near and my dear you have killed 
They are not with me to rejoice. 

Your people are no longer slaves, 

High flutters the flag of the free, 

But from nameless and premature graves, 

A black waving flag I can see. 

Free Russia, I owe you a song, 

The land of my birth and life’s spring, 

But you made me weep far too long— 

How can you expect me to sing? 


[117] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To the Satisfied 

I have suffered for love and for freedom, 
And bitter and deep was my pain, 

But I see you in slavery happy— 

And fain would I suffer again. 

I have struggled for love and for freedom 
As dreamer, as man and as Jew; 

But fain would I perish in struggle, 

Than live and be happy as you! 


[118] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Torah 

Through the roar of thunders, 
Lightning, cloud and smoke, 

Hark, the God of Wonders 
To His People spoke. 

“I am God; no other 

Shall my Kingdom share; 

Man I made Man's brother, 

Man for man shall care. 

Swear not, steal not, kill not, 
Hold your parents dear; 

Free the slave—he will not— 
Bore his servile ear! 

Envy not your neighbor's 
House or field or wife. 

Room to live and labor 
For all men has life. 

Tread not vice's mire, 

That the heathens trod. . . 

Thus through cloud and fire 
Spoke the Hebrew God. 

[ 119 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


And like fire glisten 

These great words to men; 
When will men then listen— 

God in heaven, when? 


[ 120 ] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


“No News” 

(A war-time letter) 

From my native townlet 
Sister writes: “All’s well. 

Brother, do not worry, 

‘Nothing new to tell/ 

“Save, perhaps, you know it— 

And it is not new— 

That of all our people 
Now is left but few. 

“Twice was brother David 
Wounded by a shell; 

Thought he could be cured, but— 
‘Nothing new to tell/ 

“Uncle Joe was injured; 

Cousin Sam as well; 

Doctor tried to save them— 
‘Nothing new to tell/ 

“As to cousin Harry— 

Fate to him was kind 

Came back sound and healthy, 

Pity he is blind. 

[ 121 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


“And my husband Morris 
Was reported well, 

Now he’s listed ‘missing.’ 
‘Nothing new to tell.’ 

“Food, of course, is lacking, 
Just as coal and wood;— 
As we are not many, 

We need little food. 

“Seems that we are winning; 

All is going well; 
Brother, do not worry— 
‘Nothing new to tell.’ ” 


[ 122 ] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Woman 

(After the Midrash) 

When Jehovah first created 

Mount, and vale, and field, and wood, 
He looked round with satisfaction, 

And pronounced it: “Good.” 

Every prey-beast in the forest, 

Every song-bird in the air, 

Fish and reptile, tree and flower— 
“Good!” did he declare. 

When at last he made the woman, 

Bright as sunshine, fair as day, 

He regarded her in silence— 

“Good” he did not say. 

Just in silent admiration 

He looked on for one short while, 

And all seven heavens kindled 
With the Artist’s smile. 

“I have finished all creation— 

Bird and beast, and man and elf, 

All are good; but with this woman 
I surpassed myself. 

[123] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


“Tree and flower, vale and mountain, 
Nothing, nothing that I made 
Is endowed with grace and beauty 
That can never fade. 

But this woman's grace surpasses 
Earth below or skies above, 

She will animate creation, 

Fill the worlds with love. 

She, the source of life and beauty, 

Will her grace to life impart,” 

And with pride looked down the Master 
On his work of Art. . . . 


[ 124 ] 






SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Faithful Woman 

He whom heaven blesses 
With her sweet caresses, 

With her eyes to greet him, 
With her smile to meet him, 
With her word to cheer him, 
And her spirit near him,— 
He’s the happiest member 
Of his tribe and race. 

May life’s cares be endless, 

He is never friendless, 

For her eyes escort him, 

For her cheers support him, 
Guide him and protect him, 

If he fall—erect him, 

Keep aglow hope’s ember 
Through life’s hardest race. 

Ne’er her heart will falter, 
Ne’er her faith will alter, 

Like a star above him, 

She will guide and love him, 
Crowning and adorning 
Life’s fair May, life’s morning, 
And in life’s December 
Bring him peace and grace. 

[125] 













Part Four 

I 

Chequered Shadow 


SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Dead Rose 

As the summer closes 

And its splendor goes, 

Of your last-plucked roses 
Bring me, child, a rose. 

That when tempest rages, 

And the sky is blind, 
’Mong some poet’s pages, 

I your rose may find; 

That in cold December, 

In a storm-worn day, 

I may still remember 

Glowing hours of May; 

That when clouds will capture 
Heaven’s golden beams, 

I’ll recall with rapture 

Half-forgotten dreams; 

That the faded flower 

To my mind may bring 
In lifes’ autumn hour, 

Golden hours of spring. 

[128] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


In Tempest 

The storm with a lash of a lightning 
Made earth in its rain-blood to welter, 
And crouching, the people are running 
From alley to alley for shelter. 

And I—oh, I welcome the tempest 
And scoff at the pale, frightened faces; 
In tempest is struggle and freedom; 

And sweet are its savage embraces. . . 


[129] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Roses 

I passed by a rose-studded wall, 

And did an old legend recall: 

“The spirits of babes after death 
Give roses their color and breath.” 

Thus roses, I mused, are alive, 

Like infants they frolic and thrive, 

Like infants they slumber all night, 

Awaking with sunshine and light; 

And babe-like their moods change each while; 
When sun-kissed they glimmer and smile, 
And when at eve going to sleep, 

Their sulky heads nod, and they weep. . . . 

And as I the mystery guessed, 

A rose to my bosom I pressed, 

And while its fresh breath I inhaled— 

It opened its cup and it paled. . . . 

In anguish I cast it away, 

And prostrate before me it lay, 

A lark that winged by, sadly trilled: 

“A babe, a live babe you have killed!” 


[130] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Wounded Trees 

The old forests around Chattanooga 

With tombstone replete and with shell, 

What a sad, yet a wonderful saga 
In language of statue they tell. 

Though long mute are the bugles that sounded, 

Though the cannons stand breathless and still, 

Yet the sobs of the trees that were wounded 
Still resound over valley and hill. 

Once I heard them their anguish reciting, 

While reproachfully gazing on high: 

“See, we never took part in the fighting— 

So why did they injure us, why?”— 

Some leafless, some crippled, some broken, 

All bearing the marks of wild strife, 

They still stand as a symbol, a token 
Of the struggles and battles of life. 

Living trees that should nature bejewel, 

Shamed and naked, their fate they deplore; 

“See how heartless is man, oh, how cruel— 

To wound innocent trees in his war!” 


[131] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Storm 

The cloud-blinded skies, 

With mist-bedimmed eyes, 

Revengeful, and sullen, and grey, 

Unleash the wild storm— 

The earth to transform 

To chaos, and wreck, and decay. 

On its merciless way 
Like a huge beast of prey, 

When sensing its victim draw near, 

The storm with a yell 
Bursts on meadow and dell, 

On trees in the wood struck with fear. 

With daggers of light, 

It darts through the night, 

The heart of the forest around, 

And looks on with glee, 

As tree after tree 

Drops, heart-broken, dead to the ground. 

The sudden-roused river, 

With shudder and shiver, 

Responds to its thunderous roar, 

[132] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


And wave after wave, 

Like a ghost from the grave, 

Upsurging, runs madly ashore. 

I gaze from my room 
Enshrouded in gloom, 

And list to the beats of my heart; 
I gaze, and I wonder, 

If tempest and thunder 

Are not of my spirit a part ? 


[133] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Twilight Melody 

Twilight around me is spreading, 

Lonely I wander and pale; 

Dead lies the day on the mountain, 
Born is the night in the vale. 

Breezes are whispering vespers, 

Lulling the meadows to rest, 

Full is the air with sad longing— 

Calm is, however, my breast. 

What do I care if a day go— 

Gold-robed and ray-jewelled day— 

To the abyss of my twilight, 

Nearer the end of my way? 

Day-light, they tell me, is joyous— 

I love the pale, moon-lit sky, 

Pondering, pining and longing, 

Musing and dreaming as I. 

Twilight has secrets and wonders, 
Sunset has magic and lure, 

Spirits bespotted by sunshine 

Bleached in the twilight grow pure. 

[ 134 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Forests and lakes that in sun-light 
Frolic and dazzle with beams, 
Are in the shadow of twilight 

Castles and fountains of dreams. 

Forests and lakes that are smiling, 

Skies that are bragging with gold, 
What, pray, can they have in common 
With spirits of sorrows untold? 

Sweet is the sad hour of twilight; 

Like in a mirror I then 
See in all nature reflected 

Heart-hidden longings of men. 

Gladsomely-gloomy is twilight, 

Best in that hour I believe, 
Legends, and fancies and phantoms 
Dreamer and nature can weave. 


[ 135 ] 





SONGS AND DREAMS 


Beams 

Golden beams are dropping, dropping 

Through the sun-pierced heaven’s pall; 

Golden beams in mellow showers 
On the earth incessant fall, 

With a golden broom the heaven 

Sweeps the vales and forests all. 

Was on high a sun-globe broken, 

And its fragments dropped on earth. 

Why, reflecting, are they sparkling 
In each eye aglow with mirth? 

Why to golden dreams and phantoms 
They in hearts are giving birth ? 

Is it heaven’s golden harvest, 

And the reapers dropping sheaves? 

Or do trees of Heaven’s Eden 

Lose their golden autumn leaves? 

Why with rapture and enchantment 
At their breath each bosom heaves? 

As I pass through field and forest, 

Gold is scattered everywhere: 

O’er the mirror of the streamlet, 

In the crystal of the air; 

God! How opulent Thy heaven, 

Having so much gold to spare! 

[ 136 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Snowflakes 

Snowflakes spotless, pure and white— 
Covered all the earth last night. 

In the morning every track 
Under human foot grew black. 

Then a raven from a tree 
Mockingly cawed down to me: 

“Nought that from on high comes pure 
Can or will on earth endure.” 


[ 137 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Shadows 

Shadows, shadows, shadows, 

All around me growing, 

Like the sea-tide ebbing 
Like the sea-tide flowing. 

Shadows, shadows, shadows, 
Creeping, crawling, sliding, 

In the vales and forests 
Like the night-thieves hiding. 

Shadows, shadows, shadows, 
Gazing gravely, mutely, 

Following in my footsteps, 
Watching me minutely. 

Shadows, shadows, shadows, 
Gloomy, ghastly sliders; 

With a cobweb decking 
All the earth like spiders. 

Shadows, shadows, shadows, 
Everywhere they find me! 

Of my life of shadows, 

Ever they remind me! 

[138] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Sea and Man 

I have watched the sea, the mighty sea 
That none can scan, 

The abyss that ebbed, and flowed, and foamed 
Ere life began, 

And I mused: how short-lived and how frail, 
How small is man! 

Then I watched the heart, the human heart 
That none can scan, 

That to build new worlds, when life is gone, 

Will scheme and plan, 

And I mused: how long-lived and how strong, 
How great is man! 


[139] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Summer’s Funeral 

That day I saw Nature in mourning: 

The earth wore a veil of dark-grey; 

The heaven looked sullen and tearful, 

The wind piped a funeral lay. 

Flights of birds passed in mourning procession, 
And requiem sang in the wood, 

And the bare-headed trees—the chief mourners— 
All sadly and prayerfully stood. . . . 

Then I knew they were burying the Summer— 
My childhood’s best comrade and friend; 

And I joined in the dismal procession 
And I mourned at my comrade’s sad end. 

For I knew that the Summer was joyful, 

And radiant, and lively, and bright; 

And wherever he came he brought with him 
Glad sunshine, and song, and delight. 

For I knew that the Summer was wealthy 
With gems and with jewels untold, 

He had silk-woven carpets in meadows, 

And forests and lakes full of gold. 

[140] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


He had rubies and diamonds in dew-drops, 
And silver and sapphire—in sky; 

And I pitied that he, blessed with riches, 
As poor as a pauper should die. 

So I wanted, in token of friendship 
To lay on his coffin a wreath, 

But, alas, I could find no live flowers 
In garden, in field, or on heath. . . . 


[141] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Death of Day 

Down a blood-stained ladder 
Climbs the sun in West; 

Earth grows sad and sadder, 
Tired, it longs for rest. 

Somewhere sings a linnet, 

Sad is her sweet lay, 

And meseems that in it 
Weeps the dying day. 

Willows, aspens, mutter, 
Shivering with fright, 

Louder grows the flutter 
Of the wings of night. 

Timid bluebells weeping 

Nod their heads with fear, 

As they see the creeping 
Shadows gather near. 

Light and shadows blended 

Shade the mount and stream; 

In the air suspended 

Hangs a doleful dream. 

[142] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


r 


Evening ghosts assemble; 

Stalk, and blade, and leaf, 
Pulse and throb and tremble, 
As my heart with grief. 

Through a moon-lit sky-light, 
Peeps a sea of grey. . . 
People call it Twilight, 

I, the “Death of Day.” 


[143] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Poet and Peasant 

Once we walked together, 

Farmer Ben and I, 

He discussed the weather, 

I—the fleecy sky. 

“See,” said I, “the charming 
Velvet vale beneath,” 

“This no spot for farming,” 

Growled he through his teeth. 

“Look, yon trees they slumber, 
Weary heads all bent.” 

“These,” he said, “as lumber 
Are not worth a cent.” 

When the grove came nearer, 
And its lake beyond; 

I exclaimed: “God’s mirror!” 

He—“a fishless pond!” 

“Boundless fields behold, Ben, 
Golden sheaves untold.” 

But what I called golden 
He called merely gold. 


[144] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Song of Rest 

Rest, Rest, Rest, 

This in life is best, 

Blessed, blessed, blessed 
He who can have rest. 

To the field, the lake, the mountain, 

To the stream, the brook, the fountain, 
To the shrubs, the trees, the flowers, 

To the dreamy twilight hours, 

I have left the noisy city, 

And I sing my care-free ditty: 

Rest, Rest, Rest, 

This in life is best, 

Blessed, blessed, blessed 
He who can have rest. 

Here I am among the freemen, 

Free from men and free from women, 
Free from artful smiles and graces, 

Free from artless painted faces, 

In my hammock I am swinging, 
Swinging, swinging, slowly singing: 

[145] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Rest, Rest, Rest, 

This in life is best, 

Blessed, blessed, blessed 
He who can have rest. 

Childhood’s days I am rehearsing, 
With the trees I am conversing, 
All I tell them they believe me, 
They, I know, will not deceive me, 
They embrace me so discreetly, 

Lull me, sing to me so sweetly: 

Rest, Rest, Rest, 

This in life is best, 

Blessed, blessed, blessed 
He who can have rest. 


[146] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Game 

Yonder on the ground I see 
Sportive children gay and free, 

Playing circles—one, two, three, 

Circling round and round. 

Faster, faster, merry band! 

At your captain’s high command, 
Chained together hand in hand, 

Turn and turn around! 

Playing, darlings, is no shame, 

We, the big ones, do the same, 

We, too, play the very game 
On this globe—our ground. 

“One, two, three! and one, two, three!” 
Days, and months, and years thus flee— 
We may think our game is free— 

Yet our hands are bound. . . . 


[147] 




















Part Five 

The Dawn of a Nation 


SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Jewish Portrait 

Look at him keenly, 

Gaze at his face, 

Read in his features 
The riddle of race. 

Who is he—prophet; 

Savant or sage? 

What country bore him, 
What clime and what age? 

Where does he come from, 
Where does he go ? 

What is before him— 
Triumph or woe? 

What does he dream of— 
Sunset or morn, 

Centuries buried, 

Ages unborn? 

What does he strive for— 
Has he an aim ? 

Which is his homeland? 

What is his name? 

[150] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Deep are his wrinkles 
Hide they his soul? 
Piercing the ages, 
Seeking life’s goal? 

Look at him keenly, 
Guess if you can; 

He is the riddle 

Of time and of man. 


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|151] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Old Year 

1917 

How long, 0 God, how long, I ask 
Will be onr sad and dismal task 
To number days, to count the years 
By streams of blood and floods of tears! 
How can I on this day rejoice, 

When round I hear the thunderous voice: 
“By cruel hand, by gruesome deed, 

Thy brothers fall, thy brothers bleed, 

Thy brothers suffer wrong and woe— 

To fight the battles of their foe. . . .” 

The trumpet blows, the trumpet calls, 

The sun is set, the evening falls. 

In vain I seek the Star of Hope. . . . 

A thousand graves before me ope; 

A thousand ghosts emerge and cry: 

We fought and fell, but know not why! 

There is no land for which in strife 
We die to give our children life. 

Nor wife, nor child, nor home, nor friend, 
Could we protect, could we defend. 

Where tempests rage and oceans foam 
There is our wandering people’s home;— 
Their bed—the sod, their roof—the sky; 
We fought and fell, but tell us why? 

[152] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The trumpet blows, the trumpet calls, 

The sun is set, the evening falls, 

I hear the cry, I see the graves, 

0 year of blood, O fate of slaves! 

0 blackest fate, 0 reddest year, 

In Times’ deep ocean disappear, 

And drown our grief, and woe, and pain— 
And never swim ashore again! 


[153] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


“Your Homeland?” 

(Question put to me on Draft Registration Day) 

They asked me where my homeland is—I stood a while 
and thought; 

Reflections deep, reflections sad to me their question 
brought. 

My homeland? I who make my home in every clime 
and zone, 

Who has a thousand homes on earth, a thousand 
homes and none. 

The land where I was born, that land away beyond 
the foam, 

It was my birthplace, I must own, it never was my 
home. 

And where my forbears found their graves, as they 
the earth did roam, 

Those are the lands that hide their bones, they never 
were their home. 

My ancestor escaped from Spain, from Torquemado’s 
flame, 

He refuge found in some Dutch town—I do not know 
its name. 


[154] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


In Russia’s soil my parents lie—their fate, alas, was 
sad: 

They paid for every breath of air—a home they 
never had. 

My brothers o’er the earth are spread, from one 
another far; 

I know they too are homeless, though I know not 
where they are. 

And I by fate from clime to clime, from land to land 
am thrown; 

A denizen of every land, a citizen of none. 

They asked me where my homeland is—I stood a 
while and thought: 

Reflections deep, reflections sad, to me their question 
brought 

How could I satisfy their quest, if answers must be 
true. 

I blushed and murmured: pardon me: I am ... I am 
a Jew. . . . 


[155] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


To the New Year 

Eternal Time is spinning 

A web that none can rend; 

We saw not its beginning, 

We shall not see its end. 

Time goes bereft of reason, 

Of purpose, goal, or aim; 

A day, a month, a season, 

Is but an empty name. 

Life’s book we tear in pages, 

Call each a year of grace, 

Though oft the woes of ages 
Are crowded in that space. 

And countless days of terror, 

Of bloodshed, woe, and fear, 

We give, in fatal error, 

The guileless name of year. 

Oh, were the years but comments 
On human hopes and fears, 

We should some years call moments, 
Some moments—endless years. 


[156] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


My Chanukah Candles 

Eight little candles 
All in a line, 

Eight little candles 
Glitter and shine. 

Eight little candles 
Smile and relate 
Tales of a people 

Heroic and great. 

Eight little candles— 

Each little flame, 
Whispers a legend 

Of honor and fame. 

Eight little candles 
Bashfully hide 
The soul of my nation, 

Its glory and pride. 

Eight little candles, 

Sparklets of gold, 

Tell me of battles 

And heroes untold: 

[157] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Heroes undaunted, 

And noble, and true, 

Heroes who knew 

How to dare and to do; 

Heroes who taught 
Generations to be 
That man can be brave, 

And that man can be free. 

Eight little candles, 

Look at them well, 

Floods could not quench them, 
Tempest—not quell. 

Modest and frail 

Is their light—yet it cheers 
Israel in exile 

Two thousand years. 

Eight little candles, 

Enchanting my soul, 

Point to me, show me 
An aim and a goal; 


Whisper: life’s struggles 
Are not all in vain; 

Sons of the brave 

You shall triumph again! 

[158] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Eight little candles— 

Their quivering gleams, 

Speak to my heart 

In a language of dreams. 

Dear to my soul 

Is their smile and their cheer, 
Sweet to my ear 

Is their whisper to hear. 

Courage, but courage, 

Maccabee’s brave son, 

Fight for the right 

And the battle is won! 


[ 159 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


David’s Tent 

“May the Merciful One restore the Fallen David’s 
Tent” (Succoth prayer) 

Year by year the Jew in exile, 

Sad and weary, lone and bent, 

Met his feast of fruit and harvest 
In a tent. 

Not cement, or stone, or iron— 

Straw and lathwood, frail and weak, 

Was his festal habitation 
For a week. 

Low the autumn-wind was sighing 

Through the rough-hewn wooden bars; 

Through the roof of straw shone faintly 
Falling stars. 

There he sat, devoutly praying: 

“Heaven, see, my strength is spent; 

When will you re-build the fallen 
David’s Tent?” 

“Lo!” the kindly heaven answered: 

“David’s Tent will be at length 

Built by men of heart and courage 
Will and strength!” 

[ 160 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


And the Jewish heart awakened 
At the heaven’s mighty word; 

As of yore the brave Maecabee 
Grasped the sword! 

And his legions, marching eastward, 

Hearts unbowed, and heads unbent, 
Shall erect a never-falling 
David’s Tent! 


[ 161 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


The Call 

I hear the nations’ trumpet call: 

The fort of tyranny shall fall, 

For Mother-earth has room for all, 

For nations great and nations small, 

The world is nearing its re-birth, 

When free as life shall be God’s earth. . . . 

I hear the nations’ trumpet sound, 

But vainly do I look around 
To find my People in the strife. 

Demand its freedom, land and life. . . . 

Oh, where are you who taught of old 
The flag of freedom to enfold, 

Who thirty centuries ago 
Proclaimed that slavery shall go? 

Are you ’midst nations free and brave 
To be the last, the only slave? 

Is liberty’s eternal fire 
In swamps of ghetto to expire? 

Your thirst for freedom who did quench? 
I see you bleed in every trench. 

On thousand battlefields you fight, 

For foreign lands, not for your right, 

On every wave, and isle, and strand— 

But where, oh, where is, pray, your land? 

[ 162 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Arise, O ancient race, arise, 

Your young and old, your strong and wise, 
You still have pride, you still can love 
The field below, the sky above. 

You still can plow, and till, and toil, 

Your sweet, your soul-bejewelled soil. 

Arise, O ancient race, arise, 

Your young and old, your great and wise, 
Proclaim your will, your right demand— 
Your nation’s freedom, and your land! 
Lest you forget—repeat your vow— 

Your day has come, your hour is now! 


[ 163 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Messiah’s Trumpet 

Written on the day of Britain’s Declaration that the 
British Cabinet will support the Jewish Claim 
for a national home in Palestine. 

Oh, can it be, oh, can it be, 

The ghetto-slave at last is free? 

Oh, is it true, oh, is it true 
The hated Jew. the hunted Jew, 

The nomad of two thousand years, 

Whose life was death, whose joy was tears, 
Whose past—of blood a shoreless stream, 

Whose future—but a mystic dream, 

Whose home was nowhere on God’s earth— 

Is he approaching his re-birth? 

Is he to break his ghetto-chain, 

And be a nation once again? 

I hear a voice, a mighty voice: 

Rejoice, 0 Israel, rejoice! 

I hear a wondrous voice around, 

And recognize the sacred sound. 

This is Messiah’s longed-for horn, 

Proclaiming: Judah is re-bom; 

That ended is his age-long strife, 

That he has gained his Right of Life! 

[ 164 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Be blessed this greatest day, be blessed! 
From North and South, from East and West, 
We hear, Messiah, thy command, 

And go to build our old-new land! 


[ 165 ] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


A Leader 

(My first impression of Louis D. Brandeis) 

He stands before us, stately, tall, 

With head erect and eyes aglow, 

And as he speaks he to us all 
Appears a seer of long ago. 

As last he sees that beauteous goal, 

He ever knew, but could not name; 

At last the spark that in his soul 

Long smouldered, burst into a flame. 

He speaks . . . his mellow voice imparts 
Unswerving faith with every sound; 

His words drop slowly on our hearts 

Like golden rain on sun-parched ground. 

We know him not, but cannot fail 

To know, when once we see his face: 

This is the man whom men will hail 
A leader of an ancient race. 


[166] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


After the British “Declaration” 

Somehow my joy is with sadness still blended, 

Something weighs down on my heart like a stone; 

Hard to believe that our nightmare is ended— 

That we can the Moloch of Golus dethrone. 

Seeing the people with blindness still smitten, 

How can they gaze on the new-rising sun ? 

Why is no joy on their faces yet written 

Why are the clouds of our exile not gone? 

Life looks still dimmer, and men look still smaller, 
In this hour of sunshine, this moment supreme; 

Small is the mind that can hold but a dollar, 

Narrow the heart with no room for a dream. 

Willing, unwilling, I feel my faith shaken— 

Slaves, who in slavery blossom and thrive, 

Can they from lethargy ever awaken, 

Rise from the dust and to freedom revive? 

Centuries homeless, and hated, and driven, 

Have they the courage their land to demand? 

And when the land to the people is given, 

Is there a people to give to the land? 


[167] 




SONGS AND DREAMS 


Homeward 

A Jewish land! a Jewish home! 

No longer all wide world to roam, 

No longer all the earth to tramp, 

No longer bear the servile stamp. 

No longer hide my Jewish face 
For fear of torture and disgrace. 

No more expose my soul for sale 
And buy the air that I inhale. . . . 

3 D.-rnFi? 

Two thousand years pursued and wronged 
My forebears hoped, and pined, and longed, 
And every day three times did pray 
That God might send that longed-for day. 

A Jewish home! a Jewish land! 

Still fleet of foot, still strong of hand, 

We answer, Mother, to thy call, 

We come, we come, thy children all; 

From North and South and West we hail 
To build thy town, to plant thy vale, 

Thy wounds to heal, thy shame to drive, 

That you and we at length revive 
From foreign lands we hasten home— 

0 Motherland, we come, we come! 


[168] 






















































































































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